


The Wildling and the Wolf

by Sapphos_Ghost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 18:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphos_Ghost/pseuds/Sapphos_Ghost
Summary: There will come a time where Wildling and Wolf fight together to stop death. You must decide to trust the Wolf, and she will learn to trust you. Fight for her Aisling; she needs to know she is worth fighting for.”





	1. Ash

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, I'd love it if I could get some feedback about this story. Love GOT and shipping Arya with other female characters and fell in love with the idea of Ash. Hope you enjoy and leave me feedback!

I start awake as the contents of a bucket of ice cold water is thrown on me. From my position between the pigs, the cold ache settles deep into my bones, and I groan. When I look up, I meet the angry eyes of a farmer, whose hammy hands are on his waist. I know he is the farmer who takes care of these pigs, and probably objects to the idea of a lone man sleeping among his livestock. His gravelly voice confirms it, as he raises a hammy hand to point at me, wagging his finger. “There’s nothing’ for ye here waif. My pigs don’t need to be sharin’ their slop with the likes of you! Out you go, and don’t come back!” 

I hold back an angry retort and grab my meager bag of possessions, slinging my quiver of arrows and bow over my shoulder, securing them in place. His eyes linger on my bow, and I wonder if that’s the only reason he has not tried to kick the shit out of me. I caress the bow, and his eyes narrow, so I quickly hop the fence, leaving him and the pigs behind. I could have easily killed one of his livestock, but I hadn’t, seeing them as an opportunity to stay warm during the ever increasing dark winter nights. There was a day when I would have stood up to that man for how he spoke to me, but I have long learned that it gets me nowhere except a slap or a kick. Since coming south of the wall, I have learned my place in the hierarchy of this foreign land. 

I am what is called a wildling by those south of the wall, but I am proud to be Free Folk. I was born north of the wall to a dying woman. My da was a man called Torsten, and was a close advisor to the King beyond the Wall known as Mance Rayder. I was raised alongside two brothers, who were just as tough as da was. I was never treated as a girl child, and was taught to run and hunt just like the boys. My brothers called me Ash, for I was always covered in dirt and soot, and it stuck. No one ever remembered the name that my ma gave me. Only Torsten ever called me Aisling. And that was only when he was feeling particularly drunk, and was willing to tell tales of my mother. He spoke of her blonde hair, and violet eyes, and of the way she used to laugh and sing before she got sick. My brothers were not really my brothers fully. They are my foster brothers, taken in by Torsten when their mother died. Orald, the oldest was a strong, and muscular boy, who took to protecting me and keeping me out of danger. Thorren, the younger boy was a troublemaker through and through and was my best friend growing up. I don’t think I even knew I was a girl child until my da told me I wasn’t to be running around shirtless anymore because I was becoming a woman.  
It was then that things changed, and I started to realize that I would be treated differently because of my sex. Even Thorren was treating me differently when I developed tits and a bum. My first blood came when I was 13, and I was scared until a local girl named Frenrit befriended me and told me of the monthly “gift” given to women by the gods. I hated it, and still do to this day. It is no gift to a woman like me. It only marks me as weaker than the menfolk. Frenrit and some of the other girls tried to befriend me, but I didn’t know how to be with other girls. So I stayed alone, being taught by one of the older women how to shoot a bow, so I could prove to my brothers and my da that I was just as able as they were. 

My da did not allow me to join him and my brothers on the assault on the wall. Not even prompting from Ygritte, my old mentor, or my uncle Tormund. I was left behind to “guard” the women and children with some of the older men and boys. Never before had I been so angry at Da. But then we were defeated, and the able bodied lead the women and children to another location, to keep them out of the reach of the men of the Night’s Watch. After Jon Snow came to make peace with the remaining men and women of the Free Folk and the white walkers and dead attacked, I escaped with the others, and stayed at the wall once most of the men left to follow Jon Snow. Now I am on my way to Winterfell, to join the army against the Boltons, to join up with my brother Thorren and my uncle Tormund. Even they may not recognize me with my closely cropped blonde hair. I had gotten my eyes from my da, not my ma, so I didn’t have the distinct eyes that my da often spoke of. My eyes were bright blue like his, and my hair was blonde and wavy like his was, only maybe a little lighter. I have always worn it short, but never cropped to my head. I have been disguised as a boy to travel to Winterfell so that I am not harrassed and attacked for being a woman alone. 

 

I am anxious as I near the forests surrounding Winterfell. I have heard tales of Ramsay Snow, and his vicious bloodthirsty ways with women. I will not be one of them. I’d rather die than be treated as an object to be used and killed in a way he deems fit. I shake my head to rid them of the thoughts of the torture and death that he could inflict, focusing instead of the idea of fighting against him and freeing the north from the clutches of the bitch Queen. Once I approach the gates, I can see a camp in the far off distance, and bypass to the tents, doing my best to avoid being seen. 

However, Jon Snow must have excellent surveyors because I am seen, and a soldier stops me with a hand to my upper chest. ‘Stop. You are not permitted to go into this camp. You need to be vetted by the Lady in order to even be chosen to enter the camp. Begone!” 

I scoff at this, thinking it ridiculous that they turn down a fresh recruit. “Sir, you may want to think twice. I have come to offer myself to the Stark cause, and add my aid in anyway I can. I am one of the Free Folk. Please send for the Lady, who will see me as what I am instead of what you think I am.” 

He seems to stare at me for a moment, thinking before nodding decisively. “Alright, wait here.” He gestures for another man to take his place, and this one is distinctly different. Not a soldier at all. I know him as free folk right away. He wears clothes of fur and his hair is untidy and braided. He grins at me in mirth, and I can’t stop myself from smiling back. He seems to study me, and then grins wider, winking a brown eye at me. “Whatcha doin’ here lass?” I must start a bit at the name, and his brown eyes twinkle. “Aye, I know yer a lass. Secrets safe with me girl. I know a bow in the hand of any woman is just as effective as the bow in the hands of any man.” He claps me on the shoulder, and I can’t help but feel relief that he will not tell my secret to the soldiers or the Lady, who may send me away if they knew I was a woman. 

I am startled out of my thoughts as the soldier returns with a very tall red headed woman, that I know instantly is Lady Sansa. She appraises me with interested blue eyes, and shrugs to the soldier. “I have never seen this one before, and I see that he is a Wildling. You are free to allow him access to camp.”

The man nods stiffly, and the statuesque woman turns to smile at me. “What is your name?” She asks in a quiet, but confident voice. 

I think about lying about my name to this woman, but my name slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Ash. My name is Ash.” 

She quirks her eyebrows and smiles. “I like the name. May you have success in your battles young Ash.” She nods to me, and walks regally away. I watch her depart with butterflies in my stomach, awed at her beauty and grace. The soldier who I originally met clears his throat, and points to the other man, who stayed to watch the exchange. “Ash, you can go with this man here, who will show you where to sleep, and meet some of the men.” I nod to him, and hurry to catch up with the other man, whose strides are long and fast. 

“So Ash, is it? Not very masculine for a boy.” He winks at me, and I can’t help but smile at his teasing. “I’m Rogar. Seems that I’ll be showin’ ye around. I think that old bossy boots back there thought I was one of his men. Must’ve been snow blindness.” He gestures at his garb, and I nod, wanting to know more about this Rogar. 

I smirk at him, and gesture to my own garb. “ Aye, I’m called Ash. I’m here to meet up with some of my kin and fight against the dead and for the Lord Crow.” When he cocks his head at me, I simply sigh. “I was at Hardhome. I watched him cut down a white walker with one swing of his sword. I’d follow him into battle any day.” 

He simply nods and we fall into silence as we approach the center of camp, and I find myself being introduced to many men, all of which are wildlings. And all of which acknowledge my womanhood. When I question Rogar about how they know when the Westerosi don’t, he shrugs and laughs. “The southerners could never imagine women who seek to fight and kill like men. They see what they want to see. Us Free Folk see women who fight as allies and even as comrades in arms. We do not think you are less for being a woman. We see that, and admire the strength it takes for a woman to live life that way despite what men say.” He winks at me, and gestures to the men. “We will keep your secret little one, if you’d like. Just know we have your back. Do no harm to us, and we will not harm you.” 

I stay with the Free Folk for several hours, listening to their stories and sharing ale with them. They were gracious with the ale, and brought me to tables where prepared food sat, which I ate ravenously. Rogar was at my side the whole time, his eyes twinkling as he watched me integrate with my fellow Free Folk. I was starting to nod off when we were approached by a very tall red headed man, with wild eyes, and a toothy grin. My stomach clenches in happiness and I spot the visage of my uncle. 

“My men, tomorrow we will fight for Lord Crow, and what he did for us and for Mance. We will not all make it, and none of us know if we can win, but we must show no mercy and find a place for our children and women to be safe in the wars to come. Lord Crow has promised us land and plenty, and we must fight beside him now to show him we hold up our end of the bargain. Are ye ready men?” We let out a loud cheer and he flashes another toothy grin. The men turn back to the fire, as the conversation picks back up. 

Suddenly I feel a presence next to me, and I’m swept up into a big hug, full of muscles and sweat. My face breaks into a large smile, surprised that my uncle has recognized me. He ruffles my hair, and puts me down, gesturing to my hidden female form. “Going about as a man I see. Smart lass. Yer dad was always talking about how smart of a lass you were. He’d be proud of you little one.” He places a hand on my shoulder as tears fall from my eyes. Then, I feel another person approaching me, and I’m caught up in strong arms once more. 

This time he smelled of fire smoke and resin. Thorren spun me around, and I couldn’t help but laugh. When he put me down, his face was split with a large smile. He was handsome and rugged as always, with his large brown eyes, and dark curly hair. He looked every part a man of the Free Folk. I hugged him close again, reveling in his closeness and the safety his presence brought me. 

“Big sister, I was afraid I’d never see you again! How are you?” I smile at his enthusiasm and resist the urge to hug him again. 

“I am good Thor. I couldn’t sit by with the women and children and let you have all the fun. Someone needs to carry father’s name into battle. We can’t all be fletchers, now can we.” I say winking at him. 

“Tis true sister. You will carry the name of Dormir into battle, and make da proud.” He smiled sadly then, placing a hand on my shoulder. “ You always were his favourite.” 

I shrug this off, uncomfortable with the idea of da loving me more than my brothers. He never treated us differently, at least not until I became a woman. Thorren just shrugs, knowing I won’t acknowledge my da’s love for me. I refused to speak to Da after he did not allow me to go with him to the wall. I never said goodbye, and I regret that every day. I am at peace with Orald’s death, as I told him I loved him and gave him a hug before he went, but I know I will always regret not saying it to Da. 

Tormund’s hand again rests on my shoulder. “Still good with that bow girl?” I nod then, and string my bow in a fluid motion. Tormund nods in admiration, and points to a branch about 60 feet away, that has a single leaf on it. I smile, and take aim, easily taking the leaf through the center. He smiles then, and claps my back. “Try the leaf on the tree way up on that old maple. The one that is blowing in the breeze.” I take aim and again easily make my mark. He seems impressed, and I notice that a crowd has gathered. Mostly consisting of the Free Folk I had spent the day with, but also some of the soldiers under the Stark, and Mormont banners. Tormund attempts to fool me with increasingly difficult challenges, but I meet every one with ease. Finally he picks up a small apple, and throws it up in the air several times. “What about this?” He asks, throwing the apple up high. I am prepared the moment he picks up the apple, and shoot it in two in midair, which is met with a round of applause by the onlookers. Tormund laughs and claps my shoulder again, his blue eyes twinkling. “Ye remind me of Ygritte lass. Try to stay alive eh?” 

He then walks off, and the crowd disperses, leaving behind only the Free Folk, who slap my shoulder and back in congratulations and bid me to sit. I shake my head though, feeling the day’s exhaustion creeping up on me. Rogar seems to sense this, and leads me to a tent, which is filled with cots and furs. He points to a single cot off to the side, and moves the furs off the cot. “This here is my kip, but you can sleep here, and I’ll sleep nearby on the ground. Don’t want none of the men taking advantage of you.” 

I thank Rogar and he nods, smiling. “Sweet dreams little one.” I try to reply, but I soon find myself fading off to sleep


	2. Battle of the Bastards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! Excited to continue Ash's journey with all of you!

When I awake in the morning it takes me a second to remember where I am. I have always been an early riser, and today is no different. I tiptoe out of the tent that is still filled with sleeping men, and go into the surrounding woods to relieve myself. It is cold, a cold that sits deep in my bones, and I groan as the cold wind even goes through my sturdy furs that I got North of the Wall. Winter truly has come. 

I return to the tent, desperate for the warmth. When I get there, most of the men have awakened, and Rogar is sitting on the cot, a worried look on his face. When he sees me, his face splits into a smile. I notice then that Rogar is only a little older than I am, and is handsome as well. I’ve never given much thought to sex or love, spending my time fooling people about my sex is hard enough without complicating it with sex. I like Rogar, and his smile, but I do not feel the pull in my loins or excitement when he smiles at me. It’s then that I realize that Rogar may think he may have a chance with me, and is protecting me as a way of showing his admiration. I don’t know how to feel about that. I brush the thought away for now, and approach him. 

He stands then, his face relieved. “I didn’t know where you went little one. I was worried for you.” He then holds up a small coat of furs, and I shrug it on, instantly feeling warmer. “These were made for someone else, who didn’t survive to see this day. I hope you can take his place, and show the Bolton bastard how to really shoot a bow.” 

I grin at him, proud of my furs, and the responsibility and respect my fellow free folk are showing me. Rogar’s face turns serious quickly then, and he nods at my bow. “I’m glad you can use that thing little one. I would hate to think of you out there getting cut down by poncy assholes..” He said, slapping my back. I feel a tingle of warmth then, not for the handsome man standing before me, but at the idea of being accepted by the people who I have always loved being a part of.. 

The morning consists of me making arrows for my bow, fletching them quickly and effectively. Thorren is beside me, fletching at twice the speed I am. I am thankful that he will not be among the archers or warriors, since he is neither. Da was always disappointed that Thorren did not show more of an interest in the warrior pursuits, but Thorren never had any talent at fighting. He excels at fletching and making bows though. I am proud of my brother for who he is, something Da wasn’t always able to say. We sit together in the quiet, fletching, just like we used to when we were younger. I only stop when I hear a murmur from the assembled soldiers and free folk, and I look up to see a short, but muscled young man addressing the crowd. His face is a handsome one, with grey eyes and curly black hair. I stand then, knowing Lord Crow when I saw him. 

“We may not all survive this assault on Winterfell men. But we will fight anyway, knowing that we are fighting not only for the North, but for those who we have lost to the Bolton’s cruelty. Good luck out there men!” 

The assembled crowd cheers, and I find myself joining in. I feel eyes on me then, and turn my head, meeting the eyes of Lady Sansa, who is watching me with an interested look in her eyes. I cannot say what the look is, or why she is watching me, but it sends tingles through my body in a way that Rogar’s gaze doesn’t. She stands tall next to her shorter half brother, and commands respect and grace in the way she stands. I know then that I will never feel for Rogar the way I do for Sansa, for he is not a woman. The swell of her breast under her dress and the shape of her lips draw me in in a way that I have never felt with a man. 

I don’t have time to really think about this epiphany because the men start marching for the battlefield, and Rogar is beside me, hand on my shoulder, leading me to where the other archers are lining up to begin battle.I stop for a moment and run back, throwing my arms around my brother’s neck and whispering “I love you to him.” He returns the hug whispering his love back to me. It’s only then that I feel I can start towards the line of archers.

An older man on a horse is amongst them, and Rogar takes me to met him. “This here is Davos, he will be leading the archers. He is one of Lord Crow’s main advisers, he will lead you well.” He then met the kindly eyes of Davos with his normally brown friendly ones. “This here is Ash, and he’ll be joining the archers in the battle. He may be young, but he is very able with a bow, and will be an asset. Tormund tested his aim last night.” 

Davos nods to me, and I return the nod of respect. “Okay sounds good Rogar. Safe battles and may the gods watch your back.” Rogar nods to Davos, shoots a concerned look at me, and then walks away to join the soldiers. Until this moment I didn’t think of being without Rogar. Even in the short time I’ve known him, I have come to respect and depend on the kindly wildling. Davos turns to me, as if he knows that I’m thinking. “Stand in the line lad, and aim like your life depends on it, cause it does.” I nod once again at him, and find a position in the line next to another of the Free Folk, who shoots me a smile full of rotten teeth. 

I smile back at him, my heart racing for the impending battle. I quickly string my bow, and prepare myself to unleash the arrows that I fletched myself. The battle starts with Jon Snow’s half brother being cut down by Ramsay Bolton, and the army rushes to aid their commander as the enemy army overtakes them. I am impressed by Bolton’s aim, but I know my aim is better. I let loose my arrows, and hit every target, taking down Bolton men with every pull of the string. Unlike some of the other archers, I don’t aim for the horses, for I feel as though they have no choice in this battle. I will leave them the opportunity to escape. Da would call it a woman’s heart, but I cannot bear to kill an animal without the intent to eat. 

Soon, Jon Snow and the army are being overwhelmed and Ser Davos throws down his bow, and leads us to join the army, getting closer to the enemy to aid our allies. However, as soon as this happens, the Bolton army surrounds us with shields and pikes, pushing in on us, so that some of us are trampled and killed by their own men. I find myself overwhelmed quickly, close to the pikes, and the ever shrinking shields of the Bolton men. 

Real terror swoops up into my throat as I use my shortsword, which I am not as skilled with as my bow. Men rush me, and I can almost feel the sharp tips of the pikes approaching. Suddenly, a giant that I have not meant yet, only heard of, charges the line of pikemen, and starts to attempt to create an exit for us. Tormund also jumps into action, joining his ally in an attempt to create an escape for the ever panicking crowd. His attempt fails as well. I can feel myself become more and more panicked as the bodies come crushing closer and closer, bodies of soldiers and free folk alike being impaled on pikes as they inch closer. At one end of the battlefield is a large pile of bodies, growing larger every minute. I can no longer see Tormund or Jon Snow, just Wun Wun the giant, ripping people apart as he is shot and stabbed repeatedly. I know he won’t last much longer. Suddenly a horn blows, and I watch as men bearing the sigil of a bird come pouring over the hills, and begin to kill the Bolton men. At the top of one of the hills was Lady Sansa, and a tall thin man sitting on horses. I find myself letting out a cheer for these new men and the hope it gives this battle. I know I am not the only one. 

The tide of the battle turns at the arrival of the men.. I soon find myself with room to use my bow, and begin to snatch up arrows from corpses to shoot and make more corpses. I see Jon Snow, Tormund and Wun Wun climb the pile of bodies and head for the gates of WInterfell. I let out a yell, and follow them, knowing that they need any help they can get. As I climb the pile of screaming, shitting death I am hit with the intensity of what I just survived. No time to think of that now though, and I push it out of my head. 

When I reach the gates, they have been broken down by Wun Wun, and he is kneeling on the ground full of arrows. Jon Snow is at the front of a group of the Free Folk, with Tormund just behind them. I notice that archers are shooting from the walls, and begin to take them out, one by one. I am anxious that I do not see Rogar anywhere. I make myself focus on the scene before me. Ramsay is standing alone amongst the dead, his bow notched and he shoots a fatal shot at Wun Wun that hits him in the eye and kills him. I, along with the other archers on the walls, aim our bows at him, but lower them as he addresses Jon Snow. 

“You suggested one on one combat, didn’t you?” He says, his voice cocky and sure of himself. This causes all of us to raise our bows to point at him. Ramsay laughs, and gestures around to the archers. “I’ve reconsidered. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Suddenly his bow is up, and Snow drops his sword and grabs a shield, blocking the first arrow just in time. Snow advances, and Ramsay nocks another arrow and fires. My hands are shaking as I watch the match, knowing that while even if Ramsay wins, he will be killed by us, he may kill the man who has united the Free Folk and the men of the North. Ramsay nocks another arrow and fires, and once again Jon Snow blocks the arrow. Jon continues to advance, and finally overtakes him. He bashes Ramsay with the shield twice, knocking him off his feet. I cheer internally as I watch the bastard fall. Jon Snow then drops the shield and jumps on top of Ramsay, punching him in the face over and over, making the once handsome face mangled and bloody. I watch with bated breath when Sansa enters the courtyard, watching her brother kill the man who she was married to against her will. Snow sees her, and stops punching Ramsay, standing up and walking away from his mangled body. 

Sansa orders Ramsay to be taken to the kennels, which puzzles me. But it is quickly done, and soon the soldiers of the north and the free folk occupy Winterfell, replacing the flayed man symbol with the Stark banner. 

We set about finding and preparing the dead for a pyre. Working alongside my fellow free folk, I ask about Rogar, but no one has heard or seen him since the battle began. I search, desperate for some sign of him. Then, a man I know as Loste calls me over and I see the broken and bloody face of the man who I had come to know as a friend. His chest still rises and falls, but I know he does not have long before he succumbs to his injuries. I kneel down in the mud, piss and shit, and hold his hand. He raises a hand to caress my face before it falls beside him, and his eyes roll back in his head. I place a kiss on his forehead, and I can feel a tear work it’s way down my cheek. It splashes on his bloody broken face, and I look away, taking a deep breath and trying to calm my broken heart. Soon, I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn to see Tormund, his face bloody from battle. “I’m sorry lass, I know you were friends. You will remember him always and he’ll live on in you and your deeds.” He chuckles then, motioning to my body. “Can’t believe ye survived that lass. I didn’t think I’d survive and I’m double your size.” I laugh then, a little weakly, and he slaps my back. 

“I’m afraid we can’t mourn everyone of these men. We must prepare for the pyre and let them go beyond this world.” He pulls me to my feet, and steadies me when my legs feel as if they are going to give way. He holds me up for a moment until I find my legs, and helps me pick up Rogar’s body and bring it to the pyre. We are burning both Bolton men and our men, because of the threat of the dead returning to life. But the men who died for the Starks have been given rites while the Bolton men have been set alight where they are. 

It is well into morning before the pyre has burned down, and the smell of burning flesh and shit fills my nostrils. I know that the smell of Rogar burning next to his friends will haunt me forever. I send up a prayer to the old gods asking to watch his soul, and guide him into the light. I’m not a big believer in the gods, or any gods for that matter, but I figure it can’t hurt. My legs are shaking with exhaustion as I enter the gates of Winterfell, and I feel ready to fall down and sleep where I stand. Suddenly there is a presence at my side, and Lady Sansa grabs my arm, as if to steady me. 

“I am glad to see you have survived Ash. Are you injured? The maesters are doing their best to keep up with the injuries. I can take you there if you’d like.” I shake my head, evaluating the small injuries I had received during the battle. Nothing I can’t handle on my own. There was only so many hands to go around, and so much Milk of the Poppy. She nods, and gently leads me away from the courtyard, to a room that is filled with furs and men. “This is where the Free Folk are sleeping. Get some sleep Ash. I know you need it.” I manage a small bow and she laughs it off, pushing me towards one of the cots, and my eyes are closed before I even land on the furs.


End file.
